Just Three Words
by peterwilson
Summary: Wade cut him off before the thoughts could get louder. He shook his head, "No. Don't fall in love with me."


**Author's Note:** If the pairing wasn't AU enough for you, I made Wade a little more self-deprecating than he is – or at least, would show himself to be. The situation called for it! Based on the song _'Absolutely Cuckoo'_ by The Magnetic Fields. Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

It wasn't anything that Peter said, because honestly, he didn't say much at all when he was with Wade. A few grumbled warnings for Wade to keep his distance that were soon to be ignored, but otherwise, Peter Parker was pretty silent. Mostly because Wade spoke enough for the both of them. Peter didn't really do anything to provoke this, either. He did something, mindlessly, but nothing obvious. He didn't walk straight up to Deadpool, the merc with the mouth, and give him the kiss of the century like he had with Mary-Jane or Gwen Stacy. Oh no, he was a lot more subtle when it came to Wade Wilson, because Wade could be bold enough for them both, as well.

As a matter of fact, Peter probably hadn't even meant to give any kind of hint. He had probably meant to be the reasonable one, as he always was between the two. Think it over and maybe mention it later, casually, awkwardly in the future. Or forever keep it within the confinements of his head, letting it burn in his stomach any time he spent time with the much older anti-hero. But Wade was quick to jump to any kind of conclusion, even if he was wrong and then Peter did it, and Wade couldn't help himself. He had to speak up.

It wasn't even that Peter really made a point to catch Wade's attention.

It was small. It was fast. It was really nothing, in hindsight. But as Peter glanced up from his reading book, brown eyes gazing at the man in the red and black mask across from him, his eyes sparkled. They honestly shone. A smirk, very small, sly, appeared on his face and even though he was pushing his thick, black frames higher along the bridge of his nose, Wade caught him sneaking a glance again, his mind obviously on something beyond the petty conversation Wade had been having with himself. It was just the smirk and the glimmer within those Bambi eyes were so _obvious_ to Wade. At least, that's what his yellow thought box said. The white box laughed at the accusation, reminding Wade who he was, who they were and who the boy who had returned to his book was. But that didn't stop him. Wade had never had a filter.

"Don't do it, Spidey."

That caught everyone's attention. White thought box, yellow thought box and Peter Parker alike all questioned Wade's intention. But Peter was the only one that Wade paid any attention to, as he asked, "Don't do what? Focus on my work? I have to say, you're making it kind of difficult, with your nonstop commentary on anything and everything, but-"

But Wade cut him off before the thoughts could get louder. He shook his head, "No. Don't fall in love with me."

That shut them all up. Especially Peter Parker.

The seventeen year old was frozen in the uncomfortable, wooden chair at the dining table within Wade Wilson's apartment, eyes still somewhat hidden behind those frames, but gazing back at Wade with false contempt. He tried to play a part, keep up with his entire front by dismissing Wade's behavior, "Yeah, I'll try."

But Wade wouldn't let it drop, "I'm serious. Don't do it."

"You don't have to worry about me, Wilson," Peter grumbled accusingly, but his eyes had dashed back to his book and voice was already fading with regret and hurt. The yellow box cooed at Wade, hoping that maybe it was too late for a warning. But the white box wasn't so nice, even if the yellow box was being sarcastic, and merely laughed, claiming that one day, Wade was going to push Peter Parker away entirely.

"Or maybe I'm too late. Maybe you're already in love with me. Are you, Pete-y? It's only been two weeks. You shouldn't be in love with me already. That's pretty quick."

"Wade, will you shut up? Just for a second. Please," Peter snapped, hand running through his wild, brown locks as his eyes narrowed to the man across the room, sprawled out on the couch as he barely paid any attention to whatever reality show was on this time.

Touchy, touchy, thought the yellow box.

Annoyed, no doubt, by our antics, thought the white box.

"Just tell me you won't fall in love with me and I'll be as quiet as a mouse," promised Wade.

Liar, thought the yellow box.

Liar, thought the white box.

"Liar," breathed Peter, more so to his book than to Wade.

"What was that?" Wade asked, as he slowly sat up from the couch, though he knew what the high school student had said. Peter heard the creak within the cushions, from too many nights accidentally slept against those once-plush pillows and his eyes lifted to the anti-hero staring him down. It wasn't too late to cover. So Peter humored him.

"Okay, Wade. I won't fall in love with you," he said, louder this time and Wade nodded, letting himself rest against the cushions again.

See? The white box taunted him.

"Good. Because you might think I'm a little much now, but just give it some time and you'll see," Wade spoke, his tone somehow even, eyes reverting back to the television. So that was that.

I don't think he'll want to see, the yellow box suddenly agreed with the white box.

I don't think so, either, Wade thought along.

But Peter suddenly slammed his book down against the table and let out a loud groan. Wade's blue eyes widened behind his mask but he turned to his boyfriend whatever his title was and rose an eyebrow, "Don't Hulk out on me now, honey."

"What's your problem, anyway? Why do you have to do this?" Peter almost yelled, hands covering his face as though something troubled him – as if Wade didn't know what.

Well, that was quick, the white box laughed.

Guess you really should have worked on your goodbye sooner, the yellow box thought guiltily.

Goodbyes imply a sometime after, Wade scoffed. He didn't do 'see you later's, in any sense.

"To what specifically are you referring to?" Wade asked innocently, the sarcasm dripping from his voice. What was wrong with him? What was his problem? Well, there was a lot. But Peter knew of it all. So why was he asking?

"If I want to fall in love with you, then that's my problem. So fuck off," Peter sneered, the angst-ridden teenager within him clear as day. He wasn't even making any sense. But the words made Wade smile as he picked at them.

"Well, if you want to fall in love with me, I can't fuck off, can I?" Wade questioned smugly. Peter just lifted his head, glaring at the mercenary. The happy mood Wade wore like his mask was hard to fight off, but his smile dropped quickly, abruptly, and he shook his head, "Just don't do it, Pete."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"I'm telling you what not to do."

"Then don't tell me what not to do."

Wade let out a laugh, the amused exterior back on.

He's cute when he's mad and bitter, the white box thought.

He's always cute, the yellow box thought.

"It wouldn't be real. That's why I'm telling you not to," Wade said as he grabbed the remote, figuring the conversation would slip. A new topic would come to his head, engulf his thoughts, and he'd change the subject, not on purpose, but just because his one-track mind loved to jump. But that, for once, didn't happen. Peter wouldn't let it.

"Yes, it is."

"Yes, it is?" Wade questioned, lost in the confinements of his head. His attention turned back to the teenage boy in his geeky Doctor Who shirt and immediately, his one-track mind was, again, focused solely on what was before him. Not that he minded, when as of late, Peter Parker seemed to be the one thing that consistently stood before him and kept him decently focused.

"Yes. It is," Peter simply repeated, keeping Wade's gaze for longer than ever before.

This conversation is repetitive, thought the white box.

Yes, it is, thought the yellow box.

"Not for long," Wade decided to say.

And finally, surprisingly, the anger subsided within the seventeen year old. Eyes still staring back at one another though, Peter allowed his face to change as he considered Wade's words. _Not for long._ Well, that might be true. So he shrugged, deciding to be logical, painfully, optimistically logical, "You don't know that."

Ha, the white box chuckled.

Ha, the yellow box snickered.

"Ha," Wade laughed again.

"Well, you don't."

"It's just probability," Wade smiled, his body extending again, as his feet stretched out on the dirty coffee table. Peter rolled his eyes at the older man's antics, the way he was so irresponsible, the mess he was bound to make with the cup of soda just a centimeter away from his feet. But Wade went on, "Albert Einstein said insanity is doing something repeatedly and expecting a different result each time. Or, you know, something to that effect."

"So?"

"So, if I act the way I do and do the things I do, and so many people have walked out on me, why would I believe that you're not the same? I don't blame you or anyone else. I'm just not stupid enough – or insane enough – to expect a different result," Wade explained with ease, a smile still on his face, a smile Peter could see through the spandex mask.

Peter ignored it, though. He kept the moment of vulnerability in mind, but he didn't shed a light to it. Wade appreciated it more than he'd ever admit as the brief pause between them passed. "Do you love me?"

"Wow, getting me with the hard-hitting questions right now, huh, Spidey?" Wade laughed.

He didn't let up, "Do you?"

Yes, thought the yellow box.

Pathetically so, thought the white box.

"How can someone not love that sweet ass, Parker?" Wade questioned.

"No, Wade," Peter pushed, his voice trying and exasperated, "Do you love me? Not my ass, not my lips, not my dick, not Spider-man. Do you, Wade Wilson, love me, Peter Parker? Are you in love with me for me?"

Silence was rare, but it came and, most of the time, it was worse than the thought boxes.

"Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to? You're smarter than that," Wade scoffed.

But Peter ignored the venom in Wade's voice, "So why, if you can so easily love me, is it so crazy for you to think that I love you?"

It's like he doesn't even know you, the white box thought.

It's like he doesn't even know himself, the yellow box thought.

It's like he knows what him and I are like in my head, Wade hopefully thought.

"Because you see me now and yes, I'm a nuisance, but it's endearing. Or so you think. You can handle it, at least. But give it a week or two and you'll see. This isn't something you can just handle. I'm not something you can just handle, Peter. In a way, when it comes to you, your dads are right. I'm fucking crazy," Wade suddenly sounded so serious. Peter had never seen a serious side to Wade Wilson. Even when they were heated, between kisses, on the battlefield, wherever, jokes were bound to come around. He was called the merc with a mouth for a reason.

Peter didn't speak. He wasn't used to this side of Wade. He'd heard of this side of Wade, heard the stories of attempted suicide, a few jokes made by Wade about his own self. But he'd never seen Wade put himself down, especially not on Peter Parker's count.

Not that it lasted; Wade remained true to his mouthy title.

"And once you'll flee, I'll be heart-broken without that sweet ass," he began joking again. "I'll probably attempt to do myself off. Jump in a lake or something and sink to the bottom."

"You're immortal."

Wade ignored him this time around, "And what will happen then? I'm sure my friends will be pissed when I'm gone."

"What friends?"

"The white box and yellow box, of course!"

I'm not your friend, the white box stated.

Yeah, I wouldn't say I am either, the yellow box agreed.

Peter rolled his eyes. He'd heard a lot of Wade's 'companions,' the extensions of his conscience. But he'd never heard them been referred to as friends before. Wade even occasionally referred to himself as a collective 'we,' from time to time, meaning those voices and him. Peter had to disagree with their new title, too; those voices were not friends. But they were thought up by Wade Wilson himself and Peter couldn't exactly fight something that was a part of Wade. In a sense, he didn't want to, either. Every part of Wade made him to be what he was as a whole and without the Wade Wilson in front of Peter, the one peeling off his mask and claiming he was thirsty as he reached for the cup of soda, Peter probably wouldn't have been so content with the turns his life took.

His doe, brown eyes stared at the anti-hero's marked face from a distance. Anyone else would have been staring at the scars, the paled color his lips took on, due to the marks, his chapped skin. Wade Wilson was a sight. But Peter loved every part of it, the whole. He truly did.

Standing up, the chair screeched against the tiled floor, but Wade was too busy watching the glowing screen as two girls got into a cat fight to pay any attention to Peter, crossing the apartment. It wasn't until the couch sunk in beside him, that the mercenary looked towards the superhero. Peter took the remote control and turned off the TV, a protest then welling in Wade's throat, only to be cut off.

"I love you."

Oh, please, thought the white box.

Oh, no, thought the yellow box.

"Maybe," said Wade.

"Shut up," Peter groaned.

"I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. I'm saying maybe," Wade tried again, grinning ever so slightly, as he had been, as if this entire scene was just a comedy sketch to him.

But Peter, again, shook his head, "Seriously, stop talking."

"It's called a compromise, Pete-y, it's how relationships work," Wade spoke again.

But Peter didn't argue further. His lips merely met Wade's, kissing him heatedly to keep his boyfriend quiet, as he had learned to do. He couldn't help himself though. Silence, as stated before, was uncommon and uncharacteristic for Deadpool and Spider-man had taken to the husky, deep voice with ease. He pulled away ever so slightly – there was one thing he wanted in this moment. Just three words, at the very least. And he knew they were on the tip of Wade's tongue, "Just say it, Wade."

Don't fall for it, the white box said.

You'll get hurt, the yellow box warned.

Wade pressed his lips once more to Peter's, though the boy momentarily struggled to get away, to get what he wanted. And finally, Wade obliged.

"I love you, too, Parker."

You're an idiot, the white box sighed.

This is a mistake, the yellow box agreed.

Peter smiled against Wade's lips.

So maybe Wade Wilson was more insane than he had previously thought. Especially when it came to Peter Parker. But truth be told, he didn't mind. He didn't mind one bit.

"But not as much as I love your Spidey ass," Wade managed to laugh, before Peter let out an annoyed groan and tackled Wade against the cushions, straddling him as they engaged in heated, wet kisses.


End file.
